Yesterday, I took my McSkanky self down to the post office. I don’t use the word “skanky” lightly. I’ll be honest, we’d been celebrating the MoonPie’s birth for several days and frankly, a shower was just too much to ask. But it didn’t MATTER that my hair was uncombed and thrown up into a plastic clip from the 80’s. Sure I was renewing my passport, but I was armed with two, heavily retouched photographs courtesy of my husband. Imagine my delight when they told me that the photographs would not work, and that I needed to have my picture taken right then and there! Awesome. I mean, passports are only good for TEN years. What’s the worst that can happen?
If you really want to know how you look, have your photo taken by your local postal worker. against a plain, white wall under fluorescent lighting. Cool!
Wow, look at that beautiful contrast between the top of my head and the ends. And, ummm…these are the ones JD took where I had actually FIXED my hair. The ones the post office took are much WORSE.
I called my hair-dresser, Steven, and begged him to fit me in. Actually I told him that I was walking around telling everyone that he’s responsible for my hair, and he rushed me right over. When he looked up my color in his files, turns out that I hadn’t been in to see him in over FIVE MONTHS.
I couldn’t believe it had been so long, but the photo doesn’t lie. I swore to Steven that I’d never wait over 12 weeks again.
Then he presented me with the bill. $155.00!
So long sucker, I’ll see him in June!
